


Letters from Cayde

by DistantStorm



Series: The Hunters' Vanguard [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: All will be revealed in time, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Badass Women, Canon-Typical Violence, Cayde-6 Being Cayde-6 (Destiny), Covert Operations, F/F, F/M, Mental Instability, The Vanguard Dare, Vanguard Drama, mild romance, steelponcho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-02 22:58:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16314251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Suraya Hawthorne has a lot to learn, and with her mentor deceased, she’s forced to follow the paper trail he’s left behind.A story in which: Ikora and Zavala have difficulty setting aside their animosity, no one knows what the Vanguard Dare is (just that it was made and there are terms), Cayde uses The Guardian as an interstellar mail delivery service, Suraya Hawthorne is pegged as a crazy person, and Darkness is looming on the horizon.  Follows the events of The Voice.





	1. The Greater Good

“I can't believe it!” The ghost spins around and around, chattering excitedly. “This is incredible. I can't believe you're a - WAIT. You do know us, right? Who we are? Who  _ you _ are?”

The ghost's Guardian smiles tentatively, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They're nervous and it shows.

Hawthorne rolled her eyes. “Yes. I know you. Ghost. Guardian.” She points to them in turn. “The annoying duo who proved me wrong about Zavala abandoning humanity. You talk a lot,” She addresses the whirling, excited being, “And I've only ever heard you talk once.” The mostly silent Guardian tackles her in a hug. “Uh,” She pats the Warlock's back gently. “Yes, it's okay. You can stop hugging me any time now.”

“Yes,” Her own ghost piped up, no longer rendered speechless at the rather overwhelming display of emotion when they'd they'd finally made it away from the shard. “You act like you've never seen another Guardian before.” His voice is a little lower, and a bit deadpan.Looking good for them, in the compatibility department, Hawthorne thinks.

Ghost shrugs and Suraya picks up the quick gesture with ease. Was her vision that bad before? Couldn't be, considering she's a sniper. “She's just happy.” Ghost says matter of factly, “Most Guardians don't remember their pasts. Most Guardians - all Guardians that I know of, present company notwithstanding - are brought back from the dead. I know the Speaker had said there were ghosts in the EDZ looking for Guardians but, I never thought this could happen! It's a miracle! Everyone will be thrilled! They-”

The Guardian stepped back from her and pulled out a series of envelopes, all of which had one very familiar logo on the bottom left corner. Finding the correct one, she pulled it out of the stack and handed it to Suraya. “Cayde was prepared, for once,” She says softly, barest hint of a chuckle in her quiet, raspy tone.

“You spoke again. I'm not sure which part of all this is weirder: me and all this,” The newest Hunter gestures ambiguously as she takes the envelope, “Or you talking.”

“Are all of your friends this weird?” Comes the snarky question from over her shoulder. Suraya swats at him, and he dodges.

“Hey!” The Guardian's ghost yells. “Don't call my Guardian weird! You don't know what she's done for humanity you-” 

The Guardian reaches for her partner and holds out both hands to cradle his ornate shell. “I prefer to listen, Little Light,” She addresses the newcomer. Her own ghost looks up at her, seemingly soothed by something in her words. “He understands me, and I him. I wish that for you both, too.”

Suraya decides she likes this development, but it's bordering on emotional again, so she's going to move onto the more pressing task at hand. She opens the letter easily, the paper soft and buttery under her fingertips as she reads.

“These… are instructions?” She looks up from the page.

The Guardian nods.

“It says that I'm supposed to visit Devrim and tell him what's happening, and then I'm supposed to go to-” She scans further. “Why do I have to to Mars? There's got to be a Hunter in the EDZ that can-”

“We're supposed to do what Cayde's letters say, Hawthorne.” The Guardian's ghost is resolute. “We're going to see Devrim - I think there’s a letter for him too. Then, Ana. She's been a Hunter for a long time. And, she has experience hiding things from the Vanguard. We were also given a ton of letters. One for every situation Cayde could think of. He thought that was what’s best.”

She stared. “So, if I died, resurrected, and lost my memory, for example…”

“Then we were to let you go, and tell no one.”

“That was the best he had?”

“He didn't think it would happen,” Ghost said, quietly. “There are worse ones, for worse situations if you want to go there. Like if-”

“I don’t think we should,” Suraya's ghost said, equally as quiet.

“No,” The other ghost replied. “We shouldn't.” He changed tracks quickly. “So, Devrim. We'll take you there, but Cayde said-”

She nods. That part was clear. “Yeah. I'll talk to him alone. I owe him that much.”

-/

Two days later, the radio crackled and spit static as they left the atmosphere. No one in the cockpit made a sound. 

_ “Vanguard Authorization Code 8-6-2. Devrim Kay for Commander Zavala.” _

_ “Devrim. Go ahead.” _ The baritone voice called back almost immediately. She interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on them. He sounds worried, she thought. It's been almost a week since she'd taken off, without a word to anyone in the city. Her tablet had a dead battery, and she was still afraid to see what those messages said.

There's the sound of a sigh.  _ “I have Suraya.” _ Her cheeks flushed at the sound of his voice. He sounded resigned, distraught. She wondered how much of it was actual acting. He'd been pretty upset when she came to talk to him. Actually, he'd been really upset. Not because she was a Guardian, he said it made enough sense, it was an honor, after all. But, it changed things. And what she had to do, the framework of this crazy scheme they were all caught up in would make things way worse before they got better.

But, it had to be done.

It was an absolute trainwreck of a plan, but also - truly - a masterpiece. Cayde had outdone himself.

_ “Is she alright?” _

_ “She isn't well. I finally got her to rest. She was talking nonsense about hearing things and having to go somewhere they told her to. Commander, I just-” _ Devrim was amazing. She knew that, sure, but she knew for fact that Zavala would latch onto that emotion and buy it. As long as he could sell the second half of the plan…

_ “What can I do? Should I come?” _ She felt her ghost looking at her, optic narrowing as he analyzed her. They hadn’t really had time to bond, or talk about her relationship with all these key figures around them.  _ “I should have intervened months ago. I should have known.”  _ There's a thunk. He's punched the table, she thinks.  _ “She asked me about death, Devrim. The very second she- the second I thought she might harm herself I-” _

She put her head in her hands when she heard the other man's gasp. Devrim didn't need to know that part. She hadn't told him that, she only wanted him to have the need-to-know information. It was starting to dawn on her exactly why it was unlikely for a ghost to have a still-living partner. She was, until two days ago, absolutely and completely insane. Now, she had a reason why she was insane, but it didn't change how it had been before that point.

_ “Commander.” _ Devrim's voice had a hard edge to it.  _ “Did you just insinuate to me that you  _ knew _ about this situation?”  _ He pauses and reigns it in, both men sighing as he continues.  _ “In any case, you have your obligations. I have some wiggle room, and scouts who can assist me with matters here. I will keep you updated.” _

_ “I will come, if-” _

_ “No. Zavala, it will not. She's a tough one, our girl. She asked me to contact you.”  _ Devrim pauses.  _ “She says that she's sorry she's letting you down. I fear you would only upset her more if you neglected your duties for her.” _

There is nothing but static for a few moments. She knows he is thinking, tactician's brain trying to find a happy medium. She knows he cares.  _ “There is nothing for her to apologize. I am glad she is safe. Let her know I will take care of Louis until she returns. I only wish for her to get well. She is… important to me.” _ It’s quite a concession for a public Vanguard channel, but what breaks Suraya’s heart is the thought of her other partner - the one she’s had for almost a decade now, the best scout she’d ever had - being alone until she returned. Her fingers twitch of their own accord, like they’re running over the downy feathers of his chest. 

“Turn it off.” Suraya's ghost's voice drowns out the continuing conversation over the radio, in lieu of recognizing his partner’s emotional breaking point. “She's heard enough. The plan is in motion.”

The Guardian nods, puts her hand on Suraya's crown. They can’t imagine how she feels right now.

For the greater good, Cayde's letter said. 

_ You're gonna have to lie for the greater good, Hawthorne. It'll all work out. Trust me. _

-/

Anastasia Bray is something, Hawthorne thinks to herself. There’s something in the way the woman holds herself that’s both cheeky and no-nonsense. Factor in the fact that she’s the voice for Rasputin and it was enough to give someone chills.

And don’t get Hawthorne started on the weather. 

Then, there’s the Hive. Blegh. Suraya thinks a bear would be an improvement over these hulking Vanquishers, and then there’s the Thralls. They must multiply like single-cell organisms, because cutting one down only seemed to add another three to the fighting.

Ana had been expecting her, when the Guardian dropped her off. She’d had a chest of gear, a myriad of weaponry, and room ready for her. It was actually rather sweet until she started talking about training. There were more questions, because she knew and had seen plenty of Guardians, and plenty of parlour tricks from Cayde. And expectations, Suraya had those too. How long did it take guardians to get this business down, anyway? 

Ana didn’t answer that, expected her to be bad at the whole thing. Suraya agreed. Wholeheartedly.

But Ana expected her to improve quickly, and decided on day one that her tentative return time to the Tower should be around the Dawning. For plausibility. Devrim wouldn’t be able to dodge questions about her forever and Suraya would absolutely want to go home. To the City. 

This war had really changed just about everything about her, hadn’t it? Not that she was complaining… much.

“I am  _ not _ wearing that.”

There’s a furrowing of brows, narrowing of eyes, and the clench of a jaw. “Yes. You are.” The fabric is thrust at the other woman. “You’re a Hunter. You’re going to wear this. Consider it a gift from your teacher.” Tense shoulders relax. “And, since I am your teacher, I make the rules. Rule number one is that Hunters wear cloaks.” She pushes it hard into her student’s chest.

Hawthorne sighs. “But I really like this poncho. I’ve always worn this poncho. People call me Poncho.”

“Well. I,” Her teacher practically sings, “Would not like the rest of the Guardians on Mars to go reporting back to the Tower and the Vanguard that you are here.” Ana Bray turns around and paces. “Besides. Zavala threw a fit about Rasputin and came all the way here over some WarSats falling out of orbit. But this? I kinda get the feeling his reaction might be worse. Especially since he thinks you’re sick and all.”

There’s some shuffling and the sound of fabric hitting the tiled floor behind her back. “Fine, fine. I get it. I’ll wear it.” There’s scoffing and sighing and a couple of stomps that are not actually balance related. “But only because no one will ever suspect me of wearing one of these stupid capes.” 

“Not a cape,” Comes the equally smart reply. “It’s a cloak. Someday, you’ll understand.”

“I don’t think I will.”

At least this ugly white bedsheet had a hood with decent cold protection. Mars was not exactly the vacation paradise planet of the Solar System. It was COLD.

“I'll take you up on that bet.” Ana's face had a subtle quirk to it. “But first, we're going to go fight some hive. I have some server rooms to check on, and you're going to help.” She shoulders her scout rifle. “You ever drive a Sparrow?

She shakes her head. “They kinda seem like deathtraps.” 

“I'll drive today, but you need to learn.” Hawthorne's face looked mildly green, to which Ana says. “Don't worry. You'll only get killed if an enemy blows it up. And those revives are easy enough for your ghost.” The veteran Hunter shrugs. “Speaking of which, this might actually kill you.”

“The Sparrow?”

“The Hive. The Guardian might not have told you. These ones are worse than the others. Religious Zealots. Powerful ones.”

“O-oh, Great.”

_ You'll get used to it. And I'll be with you. _ Her Ghost's method of internal communication makes her flinch: he's been sounding louder now that he's not some voice in her head. After the initial shock, it's soothing.  _ It's only been a few days. We’re new at this. _ He always knows what to say, and seems to understand. She appreciates that and does her best to tell him so.

_ The longest few days of my life. _


	2. On The Subject of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several deaths, several revives, and one discovery.

 

The first revive is always the hardest, he was told. And as he whirled and swished back and forth, around a cesspool of blood and body he realized that it wasn’t the actual death part that was scary. Her face, unmarked under the helmet, looked peaceful. It was the fear and bobbing around enemies that was frightening, as she could no longer sustain a neural link, and he was left out in the open around hordes of frozen Thrall, and the occasional Acolyte.

 

A few trigger pulls later, Ana gave him the go-ahead. Her own ghost, Jinju, hovered nearby as he felt the warm gift of light well from his tiny being and engulf the woman on the ground below.

 

She came to with an audible gasp - her heart restarting - promptly yanked the helmet off her head, rolled over onto her hands and knees, and wretched for a few minutes.

 

“Was that-”

 

Ana reached a hand down to pull her up. “Welcome back.”

 

“Alright then.” She inhaled. It didn’t hurt. It should hurt. She remembered searing pain and then black. And then white and now- she shook her head. She looked down at her definitely no longer bullet-riddled body. “Well, that confirms things, I guess.”

 

“Yup. No doubting it now, Guardian.” 

 

Her heart felt light in her chest. “I should probably fight more of them, so I don’t lose my nerve.”

 

“Was just about to suggest that. You need to get used to coming back with hostiles on you.” Ana nudged the barrel of her gun at him, her ghost bobbing at the same time. “And you need to get used to reviving her with hostiles. You can bring her back quicker.”

 

The new pair nodded. “Will it get easier?” Hawthorne had mostly shaken off her shock and sickness.

 

Ana shrugs, short brown hair dancing in the wintry wind. “Mostly. There are still some difficult deaths. I won’t let you go back to the Tower flinching at a rez. Don’t worry. You’re doing alright.” 

 

The new Hunter replaces her new helmet. “Okay. I’m good. We can go again.”

 

A siren and a pale red light flash as a tower rises from a few feet away. “Alright. I’m going to step back. If you fall, I’ll pick them off for your ghost, but you’re on your own otherwise.” As the Hive began to clamber back into view, Ana Bray jumps up to a higher vantage point and eventually disappears from sight. Her location is still on Hawthorne’s HUD, but it feels like they’re well and truly alone.

 

She gulps. “You ready for this?”

 

Her ghost erupts into light and she feels the settling feeling of him in their neural link.  _ This is not how I imagined things would go.  _

 

“You too? Great minds think alike.”

 

She shoulders her rifle and it transmats away in favor of her bow. It’ll be the quickest option they have - the best for picking off Hive aside from her knife when they ascend on her too quickly to keep up. It’s not how she imagined training to go, not that she imagined training to begin with. As she notched and loosed - and notched and loosed, notch, loose, notch - dodge, stab, notch, loose - she found herself thinking less and just doing. 

 

Above, Ana nods. When the Knights inevitably spawn alongside an ogre and she’s aware she stands no chance, the woman allows one of the large sword-bearers to slash her with crippling force, sending her back a good twenty meters. Her ghost appears with a shrill cry and sets to work without half of the pomp and circumstance.

 

The helmet stays on. She growls as she rises to her feet. In her hand, molten purple light bubbles. Her ghost must be giving her instructions, because it hovers over her empty left hand, like it’s perched on her wrist. A weird position for a ghost, but Ana’s seen plenty of stranger things.

 

Her body language doesn’t give away her fear this time.

 

“Only once?” Jinju’s proper voice echoes next to her.

 

“Cayde said she’s a quick learner, in one of his letters,” Ana says, eyes narrowing as the new recruit throws the void grenade with decent enough accuracy. “If she trusts her gut - when she does - she’s great. We need to foster her instinct. She’s been a Hunter in everything but name, since well before the war.”

 

“How does he figure that?”

 

“General disregard for rules, wanderlust, inability to stop herself from helping others even when she really doesn’t have to, ridiculous curiosity, y’know, Hunter stuff.”

 

Jinju huffed in his way. “Does she also have a knack for putting herself in dangerous situations? That’s something you lot also have the propensity to do.”

 

Ana laughed. “She’s here with us, isn’t she?”

 

“Poor thing.” Down below, Hawthorne advanced again, slower this time. Low and stalking. “Does she know what she’s doing?”

 

“I doubt it, but I knew she’d be a stalker. The Guardian said she’d given her three choices. She chose the bow over the hand cannon and spear. Cayde’s letter said it was the tell.”

 

“Even so. We need to teach her about the other two.”

 

“We do. In time. Let’s have her come into her own, first. You have to admit-” The ring of  _ Guardian Down  _ interrupts Ana, and she adjusts her rifle. Peering down the scope, she sees the ghost transmat the guardian’s body around a concrete barrier and begin the process of revival. No interference necessary, yet. “She’s doing pretty well. I’m jealous though. I wish I could remember.”

 

“Ah,” Jinju said, knowingly. “I was wondering when you’d bring that up.”

 

“I know I shouldn’t be.”

 

“No, you shouldn’t. She’s becoming someone else. Imagine having to explain that to everyone who’s known you for the last century. She said that she’s convinced everyone at the tower that she’s had a psychotic break. Try retconning that. I can’t imagine she’ll be very successful.”

 

The Golden Age scientist sighed. “No, I suppose not - at least, not at first. Tough crowd, those guys. I don’t know which part will be worse, trying to convince the Vanguard she’s not crazy, or trying to convince them of her skills. But, the Traveler had to have a purpose for her. Cayde seemed so sure of it. Which is weird for him.”

 

“Cayde believes in her, whatever the reason may be. We’ll fulfill this task.”

 

“Yup. It’s in our best interest,” She replies, glancing at the red ripple of the activated Valkyrie. “And his,” She continues, looking up to the large chambers in distance.

 

-/

 

It was in the middle of a meeting of the Consensus that the falcon crash-landed on the newly constructed Vanguard table, coming to a stop directly in front of Ikora, who gasped.

 

New Monarchy scoffed something about ‘that uncouth woman and her pet bird,’ while Zavala rounded the table and reached over Ikora’s startled frame to pull the bird onto his wrist. His talons dug in, but the Vanguard Commander did not flinch.

 

“Where did he come from?” Ikora asked. There was no malice in her tone, and she ignored the impolite whispers as she looked at the Titan. They had only become more and more distanced as of late, and these meetings were practically a mockery - a well choreographed dance of almost childish bickering that accomplished very little. 

 

He shook his head. “He hasn’t left the Tower since Hawthorne-” There was a pause. “I have been feeding him jerky, but he has not gone to hunt.”

 

“Maybe he ate something poisoned?” Ikora reaches over to regard glassy golden brown eyes. “Get him checked out. Contact Devrim? Perhaps he can get instructions.”

 

The look was grateful on his face. Ikora almost felt something warm in her heart, but it was gone with a quick look at the rest of the group around her. The second Zavala left, Hideo scoffed openly. “She can’t even take care of her own pet? She makes a mockery of us, Ikora. She is a weakness we cannot afford right now.”

 

“Please,” Jalal says, from the other end of the table. “Zavala makes a fool of himself. Leaving the Reef to the scavengers. He has no idea what we need.”

 

Ikora sighed. “He is doing his best,” She says, though the words feel like ash in her mouth. It cuts off the Dead Orbit leader’s attempt to transition into where he’d like humanity to relocate to this week. She does not believe Zavala though, and in turn, they do not believe her. He is wallowing in his grief, and recent events have only rendered him more wounded. She feels badly for Hawthorne, yes, but there is nothing they can do to coax supposed voices from her head. She’s not possessed. She’s traumatized. Sick.

 

“We aren’t saying to overthrow him,” Lakshimi says, from across from Hideo. “You need to lead with a firmer hand, Ikora. He believes he is to make all the decisions for us, and right now, not even Hideo is content with that. Challenge him.”

 

There is little accomplished after that. The disdain in the council is palpable. Ikora understands it. She does not want to embrace it, but there is little left to embrace these days. The council isn’t sure they want to find out who the successor to the Hunter Vanguard is - considering Cayde’s reputation and penchant for trouble - and they think Zavala’s ‘greater good’ mentality is too close-minded, so Ikora is the one they rally behind.

 

Ikora can barely understand her visions. The Traveler is unsettled. She has no concrete proof, no true connections in her visions to events in the Solar System. She only hopes she gets to the bottom of them before the Vanguard and the Consensus truly turns to chaos. Her visions are of fire and lightning now, of red and purple and blues against stark, crisp blackness. She’s seen a bird, recently. It is of light and ascends up, up, up, and turns into light and snow.

 

So many visions. She’s filled three journals since the solstice. They’re not small journals, either.

 

Her travels lead her to Zavala’s office. Devrim’s crooning over the radio is not helping him, and she can hear it in the timbre of the Titan’s replies. Ikora lets herself in as Devrim is suggesting that the falcon is in a state of shock. 

 

Tired blue eyes look up at golden ones. Ikora lowers herself into a chair as the commander wraps the bird in a warm blanket, and covers his eyes with the corner of it, like a hood. It soothes him well enough for the time being.

“Devrim thinks he is in shock or dying. They do not live very long,” He expands.

 

Ikora does not say anything to that. “Perhaps it is just a sickness. He’s tough, Zavala.”

 

“Did you know that the Guardian had a vision of a bird, when the city fell?”

 

That caught her attention. She leaned forward and the Titan took the hint.

 

He stroked the feathers of Louis’s breast with a gentle knuckle. “It was a bird of light, rising up, headed toward the Shard. That’s how they knew where to go. A day later, when they approached the Gap,” He looked down as the bird flapped its wings and became uneasy, “Louis was waiting for them. Led them to Hawthorne.” He gave up on covering the falcon, who hopped off him and onto the windowsill. Zavala rose and attempted to close the window, but a shrill trill gave him pause. The bird cocked his head at the Titan, expanding its wings. “No, don’t do that,” The Commander said. “You should not-”

 

With startling precision, and another loud, fierce cry, Louis took to the air, soaring out of the window. Zavala smacked his palms on the marble the bird had been sitting on.

 

“He’s an animal, Zavala. The Hunters have told me that they know when their time comes.” She shrugs. “But, perhaps he is going to Hawthorne. I’m certain he knows the way.” She crosses her legs. “Have you received any update?”

 

“No.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Devrim said he will handle clan affairs remotely. She’s not completely incapacitated, so he will let her advise him within reason, if she’s so inclined.”

 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t. If she is as bad off as it’s been suggested-”

 

“Do not tell me how to handle this,” He says in a low tone. “I know how to handle her.”

 

Ikora rolls her eyes. “Perhaps personally, but professionally, Zavala, it will not rest well with the council to have her involved with affairs while she is suffering delusions.” She clasps her hands. “The Guardians are returning from the Reef with the knowledge that Uldren also suffered from-”

 

“No. That’s different.”

 

“His delusions started following the supposed death of his sister. Hawthorne’s started after the war. Traumatic situations can cripple the mind. It’s not uncommon. Plenty of our own-”

 

“She  _ is _ our own.”

 

“She’s not a Guardian.”

 

“Not this, again. Ikora-”

 

“Regardless,” She redirects, “Perhaps you should consider leaving her alone. Give her time to recover. So when she comes back, she can do her job. Do not be selfish, Zavala. I know you-”

 

“I have not been selfish, Ikora. I have done everything I can for everyone else in this difficult time. Including you.”

 

“Are you looking to fight with me, Commander?” The icy chill of void energy rippled down her spine at the point where temper lost and rage began. “Because, I assure you,” She rises so that they stand toe to toe, “I am the only thing keeping the Consensus from completely turning their back on you. You would do well to remember that.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “The Consensus rarely likes what I say, I’m not concerned.”

 

“You’re as much a fool as they say you are, then.” She shakes her head. “They will see us on opposing sides if you do not get your head out of your ass. Hawthorne is a distraction you do not need right now. The timing,” She thought about holding back, but the irritation on his face changed her mind. “Honestly, it could not have been better. You need to toughen up. We do not get the luxury of grief.”

 

“Get out.” A crackle of rogue arc energy rippled down one arm. His eyes were vividly  dangerous, and the aura of light under his skin seemed to ripple like a storm incarnate. “Now.”

 

“I’m only trying to help you,” She intones, her own rage contained just slightly better.

 

Zavala laughs. “We do not get the luxury of grief, and yet who is handling the majority of Cayde’s affairs while you wax poetic and publicly grieve the loss of your friendship? Do not push me, Warlock. If I need to toughen up, I am certainly not the only one.” 

 

When his look turns down on her, Ikora can only offer the snottiest smile in her arsenal. “Ah,” She says with a velvet tone. “You are still capable of anger, after all. Shall I tell you what I really think?”

 

“Don’t trouble yourself. You’ve already advertised it to the rest of the Tower. I’ve heard plenty of what you have to say.” He reaches for the door and opens it, gesturing for her to leave. “I will not tell you again,” He seethes.

 

When she leaves, he slams the door behind her so hard that it splinters into dust.

 

The following weeks are incredibly trying.

 

Ikora does not speak to him. Not at all. She’s testy with any Titan who approaches her that is not Shaxx, and her Warlocks take care not to interact with him for anything other than strict business. The Hunters are more elusive than they’ve already become, sensing the tension in the Tower.

 

Not for the first time, Zavala wishes that Cayde had made the terms of his Dare a bit more transparent than letting him know that there are terms and they’ve been made clear to the necessary individuals.

 

He leaves the windows open both in his office and his private chambers. Louis does not return. Devrim has not seen him, and Suraya is not speaking to anyone. He feels torn apart at the seams. It’s only a bird, and not his bird, but it feels like the tipping point. He’s not sure if he wants to find him dead or not - isn’t sure he’s ready to be force-fed more closure.

 

So, he does what he does best. Shoulders the guilt and the burden, straightens his spine and forces himself to think things through. For the good of the City.

 

“Zavala would cling to the broken pieces of the future he’s imagined until they…”

 

He clenches his fists. For the good of Humanity.

 

No matter the cost.

 

-/

 

“I have known you since before I knew what I was,” The little voice is saying. It’s late. The days and nights on Mars are strange, despite there only being one extra hour in a day. Ana suggested after a few days of intense training that Guardian and Ghost get to know each other. Most Guardians didn’t have other relationships, at first, and that stark difference could dwarf their relationship's development. Suraya doubted that, since the only other beings she’d spoken to in a week were Jinju and Ana herself, but she took her teacher’s words to heart.

 

Suraya sits cross legged in front of a variety of paints and paper. This “bonding” experience had somehow turned into arts and crafts time. Ana said that painting his shell would help them express their bond. She kind of thought it was stupid, but at least she’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, if it came to that. Maybe, someday, in the Tower? She shakes off the thought, refusing to get too far ahead of herself. 

 

The ghost hums and shifts his cones. “I had, I guess you could call them dreams. I was flying. Not like this kind of flying,” He clarifies, floating in a delicate circle. “I had wings - I think.” 

 

She frowns and looks up at his pale blue optic. “I heard your voice.” He pauses again. “It’s been getting clearer, the longer we’re together. You’d tell me things. Say people were looking at me funny, because I was a bird. That doesn’t make sense, I know. You’d also tell me not to get sucked into jet turbines, that you’d be so mad at me. But I’d think that you were just worried. That I was the best pilot you-”

 

She sucks in a breath so hard it sounds like a sob. Maybe it is.

 

With a gentle motion, she holds out her left hand in a familiar motion. Without thinking, he flutters down, hovering just barely above her wrist, searching her face with a spin of cones. 

 

“What?”

 

She swallows thickly. Tentatively, she whispers,

 

“Louis?”

 

Twitch, half spin. A curious narrowing of optic.

 

“How did you know my name?”

 

“Because I’ve known you,” She says softly, laughing as twin tears paint her tattooed cheeks. She pushes her thumb against the top cone, just above his optic - an approximation of the crown of his head. The other cones shutter inward and relax, another approximation: of a familiar settling of wings. Comfort. “Before all of this. Before everything. We’ve been partners for a long time.”

 

“You’ll have to start at the beginning. It’s all a little fuzzy.”

 

She looks down at the paints in front of her. “I think I know how to color your shell now,” She says. “If it’s okay, I can tell you while I paint.”

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“Okay.” She draws up the brush, and opens her left palm for him to sink into. “So, uh, don’t freak out, but you were actually a bird. A falcon. My falcon.” 

 

-/

 

Millions of miles away, atop the Tower, a bird takes flight and soars up, up, up, toward the Traveler, erupting into light. Returning to light.

 

From above, confirmation arrives in delicate flakes of snow. 

 

Ikora Rey stares up in awe at her vision come to life.


End file.
